


AELDWS August 2016 Drabbles

by teacuphuman



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, First Time, Insomnia, M/M, Misconception, Sexting, surprise confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Genre: Epistolary<br/>Prompt: Low-grade</p><p>After the ****** is the drabble I wrote, but didn't submit for this week.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Wanting it All

“I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

 

Eames sucks in a breath. Arthur’s at the end of the bed with his back to him as he shrugs his shirt off his shoulders.

 

Eames knew, he knew, this wasn’t going to end the way he wanted it to. He and Arthur have been dancing around each other for years. Working in such perfect symbiosis he’d been terrified to upset the applecart. Dreamshare is a small pool and being on Arthur’s blacklist because of a bad one night stand would seriously impede his ability to work.

 

But they just pulled off inception and Eames’ eyes are still wide from the number of zeroes in his bank account. Arthur’s gaze had been full of heat when he’d walked up to him at the cab stand, letting his pinky brush over Eames’ knuckles. Finally, finally, Eames had thought they were doing this. But now, with Arthur giving voice to his regrets before they’ve even begun, he feels broken, like something’s been stolen from him before he even got it out of the package.

 

They’d ridden in silence to the hotel, Arthur’s hand resting high on Eames’ thigh. They hadn’t rushed, or pushed, simply checked in and ridden the elevator up, a private smile on Arthur’s lips while Eames’ heart beat frantically in his chest. Once in the room, Eames had pressed Arthur back against the wall, kissing him deep and slow, not wanting to rush what he thought would be the first step toward the rest of their lives. 

 

In the bedroom, they’d separated and started shedding their clothes, grinning at each other over the California king. Eames could read Arthur’s anticipation by the sweat on his brow and in the ruined line of his slacks. He thought they’d been on the same page. He thought they were starting something.

 

They’ve never really discussed it, this thing that agitates the air between them, makes them want, but Eames knows it’s the purest thing he’ll ever touch. He’s ready now. To settle down, to be Arthur’s weakness, and have Arthur compromise him in turn. They’ve just accomplished the impossible, and they’re flush with success, and they never have to work again if they don’t want to. The world is their oyster, and still, Arthur doesn’t want him for keeps.

 

Eames grip is tight on his tie, chest heaving as he stares hard at the sharp curve of Arthur’s shoulder blade. He wants this so bad it hurts, but he knows he’ll never get over not being able to keep Arthur. 

 

Arthur tosses the shirt onto the chair in the corner. “I’ll never get the wrinkles out.”

 

Eames breathes out, slumping forward against the bed.

 

His voice, when he speaks is rough. “I’ll buy you another.”

 

Arthur’s grin is wide and honest, and it melts away all of Eames’ doubts. “I can’t wait.”

 


	2. Rise and Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Epistolary  
> Prompt: Low-grade
> 
> After the ****** is the drabble I wrote, but didn't submit for this week.

**I can’t sleep.**

 

How is that my problem?

 

**You bought the coffee.**

 

I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.

 

**It wasn’t decaf.**

 

Oh. I thought it was just low grade coffee.

 

**It was, but it also wasn’t decaf.**

 

You could use this time to work, you know. Be productive.

 

**Arthur, I’m knackered. I’m so tired I can barely move, but thanks to you, I can’t even close my eyes.**

 

Have you tried counting sheep?

 

**Listen you little shit, this is your fault. Fix it.**

 

Well, what do you normally do when you can’t sleep.

 

**Honestly?**

 

Of course.

 

**Wank.**

 

So do that.

 

**I’m too tired, I told you that.**

 

What exactly do you expect me to do about that?

 

**You could come over here and do it for me.**

 

…

 

**Arthur?**

 

…

 

**I’m sorry, pet, I’m just out of my skull and exhausted.**

What if I walk you through it?

 

**Are you taking the piss?**

 

No, I messed up, and I’m willing to help you as an apology.

 

**If you really wanted to apologize, you could come over here and do it for me.**

 

Don’t get greedy, Mr. Eames.

 

**Right, go on then, I’m ready.**

 

What do you usually think about when you do this?

 

**You.**

 

Seriously, Eames.

 

**I am being completely serious, Arthur.**

 

Oh.

 

**Anything you’d like, really. You hand, your mouth, your lovely arse.**

 

…

 

**Have I disturbed you, darling?**

 

No, no. I just didn’t know.

 

**How could you not? I think I’ve been rather obvious.**

 

Maybe that’s the problem. 

 

**Ah, you like a subtler approach? Tell me how you’d seduce me then.**

 

I like a slow burn. Fleeting touches throughout the day. My palm on your lower back. My breath ghosting across your nape. Slowly licking crumbs off my fingers.

 

**God, Arthur, that was amazing.**

 

What? You’re done already? Seriously?

 

**Have no fear, pet. I’ll be over in a titch to see to you.**

 

Oh. 

 

**Maybe I’ll tell you a bit about what I think about.**

 

Or maybe you could just show me.

 

**Darling.**

 

Shut up and hurry, Mr. Eames.

  
  


********

**I’m sorry.**

 

Fuck off.

 

**Truly, truly sorry.**

 

Please refer to my previous statement.

 

**Darling, please forgive me.**

 

No, I don’t think I will. 

 

**You can’t stay mad forever.**

 

Want to bet on that?

 

**Not really.**

 

**How was I to know they’d upped security since the last time?**

 

It is literally your job to know that, Eames. 

 

**I know, and I got sloppy, but I couldn’t resist.**

 

Great. Good for you. Now, fuck off.

 

**I got you something.**

 

I don’t care.

 

**Yes, you do.**

 

I really don’t.

 

**I have two words for you: fancy dress.**

 

**Arthur?**

 

What?

 

**Fancy. Dress.**

 

I don’t know what that means.

 

**Think about it.**

 

I don’t want to think about it, I want to go home. Instead, I’m stuck here trying to figure out how to do the damn job with the mark tipped off that something’s up. You failed and I have to clean up the mess.

 

**But my gift will solve all of that, I promise.**

 

How? How will it solve you alerting an already paranoid multimillionaire to the fact that someone is trying to find a way past his security? How, Eames?

 

**Because I lifted an invite to his exclusive New Year’s party from his assistant.**

 

**I was trying to follow her out and opened the wrong door. I played it off as being distracted with her appearance.**

 

And she bought that?

 

**I was very convincing.**

 

I don’t even want to know.

 

Alright, I guess we go with plan B, then.

 

**Aren’t you going to thank me, darling?**

 

No.

 

**Oh, come on, Arthur. I at least get an A for effort.**

 

You get a C for being clever.

 

**Yeah, alright. That seems more accurate anyway.**

 

Now, let’s discuss how you’re going to make it up to me.

 

**I have a few ideas.**

 

Such as?

 

**Well, you know what else starts with C?**

 

Cabbage? Concrete? Cudgel?

 

**Well, that last one has some merit, but no.**

 

**Cock, Arthur. Cock starts with C** .

 

I already have one of those.

 

**And now you’ll have two.**

 

I have always wanted two.

 

**I know, darling, I know.**

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Set Your Phaser to Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Sci-fy  
> Prompt: Agenda

Arthur’s in the holodeck, soaking up the false sun of a beach on Risa, and trying to convince himself he’s relaxing.

 

“Darling!” Eames approaches, arms as wide open as his smile.

 

Arthur sighs. He thought he’d fixed this before he loaded the program, but apparently the idea of Eames is as hard to get rid of as the real thing.

 

“Computer, freeze program,” Arthur says, stilling the beach scene and the projection of Eames. “Every fucking time. I can’t get away. What is it with you, huh? Like a bad penny. I transfer stations, you follow me. I get promoted, you save an Admiral’s granddaughter from a fucking Targ, and suddenly you’re on my ship and we’re bound for deep space on a six year mission. You’re stalking me, you jackass, and I like it. I fucking love you for it.” Arthur closes his eyes and sinks further into despair.

 

“Am I allowed to speak now?” Eames asks.

 

“What the fuck?” Arthur jumps out of his chair, backing away from the no-so-hologram Eames.

 

“You said you love me.” Eames says, gleefully

 

“I thought you were a projection.” Arthur stammers.

 

“Still counts. I  _ knew _ it!” Eames pokes Arthur in the chest. 

 

Arthur flushes, fighting a smile. “So what now?”

 

“Now, darling, we use your holodeck time to make up for all those years you wasted lying to yourself.”

 

“Years, huh? You’re a big talker.” Arthur huffs as Eames pulls him close.

 

“That’s not all that’s big.” Eames whispers and Arthur laughs.


	4. I Tawt I Taw a Puddy Tat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Humour  
> Promt: "Don't Flinch"

 

“Don’t flinch.” 

 

“I’m not going to fucking flinch.” Arthur spat, raising his head.

 

“Stay still.” Eames pressed Arthur’s head back down with a palm to his brow.

 

“This may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

 

“No, darling, this is the best thing you’ve ever done. Well, second best, I like to think I come first.” Eames fiddled with the equipment.

 

Arthur snorted. “You usually do, you selfish bastard.”

 

“Maybe I’ll do a Tweety Bird. Right. Over. Here.” Eames’ fingers danced over Arthur’s ribs, making him giggle.

 

“I will fucking kill you.” Arthur shoved him off, but couldn’t stop the sobering shiver that ran through him when Eames tapped the foot switch, making the tattoo gun buzz.

 

Eames grinned, his eyes dark and predatory. “This is the best idea I’ve ever had.”

 

Arthur smiled back until Eames slid the buckle about his wrist, pinning Arthur to the table. “Just. Just don’t make it dumb, okay?”

 

Eames rolled his eyes. “Darling, I am an artist. Anything I put on you is a reflection of my work. I don’t do dumb.”

 

“Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.” Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

 

The gun started buzzing again and Eames’ hand braced against his shoulder, holding him still. Arthur didn’t flinch the first time the needles touched, but he did gasp. The pain was stinging, but not painful. Not yet anyway. Arthur zoned out, enjoying the gentle scraping of the gun against his skin.

 

Eames pulled away when Arthur’s arm jumped. “I said not to flinch.”

 

“Involuntary muscle reaction.” Arthur muttered, not opening his eyes.

 

“Hmm,” Eames restarted the gun. “I should have tied you to the table.”

 

“Well, it would have been fun to watch you try.”

 

“Like that time in Whistler?” Eames mused.

 

Arthur grinned, remembering the three story condo and the climbing gear. “Yeah, just like in Whistler.”

 

Two hours later, Eames turned off the gun and wiped down Arthur’s arm, smearing ointment over it and releasing the cuff. The tattoo was on the inside of Arthur’s bicep and the small ensemble of Escher’s cubes in black and grey that now adorned his body took his breath away.

 

“It’s perfect,” Arthur breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. “Eames.”

 

Eames ducked his head, cleaning up the supplies. “Better than Tweety Bird, in any case.”

 

Arthur turned to him, feeling light and claimed. “I want another one.”


	5. Bluebelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale of the Drabble Challenge! Alas, I did not win, but I sure had fun! The next chapter is a bonus of the drabble I didn't submit for the final week.

  
  


The problem was Arthur. Arthur, with his perfect hair, and his open heart, and his attention to detail. Arthur had given Eames the perfect gift and Eames wanted to smack him. That or crawl to him on his hands and knees, begging for attention. Sinfully delicious Arthur had listened to Eames drunkenly bemoan his lonely, pet-less childhood and then ran out and found the perfect dog for his boyfriend. And now, Mr. Perfect Trouser Creases was sprawled on the living room rug with a lap full of bulldog and a face full of kisses.

 

Eames ground his teeth together at Arthur’s laughter and strolled in, wearing the ridiculous pants Arthur had bought him, which Eames had previously refused to wear because they were tailored, and tight, and  _ grey _ . Arthur completely missed Eames’ dramatic entrance because his face was shoved into soft, puppy fur. 

 

Eames loved his gift, but it wasn’t fair. She was Eames’ dog. And Arthur was Eames’ boyfriend. They weren’t supposed to love each other more.

 

“You need to name her.” Arthur said, letting the puppy chew on his fingers.

 

“Why don’t you name her?” Eames pouted, posing seductively against the wall.

 

“I can’t name her, she’s yours. You wouldn’t even let me name your penis.”

 

“My penis already had a name, Arthur. You can’t just change it after thirty years, you’d have confused him!” Eames flopped onto the couch, watching the puppy sullenly.

 

Arthur held the puppy up. “What about Cindy?”

 

“This is why you’re not allowed to name things.” Eames told him seriously.

 

Arthur frowned. “Do you not want her?”

 

Eames straightened. “Of course I do.”

 

“Are you sure? Because you were all happy yesterday, but you’ve been kind of distant today. I thought you’d like her.”

 

Eames sighed and slid onto the floor beside them. “No, she’s perfect. The best gift I’ve ever received, truly.”

 

“But?”

 

Eames ducked his head. “But she loves you more.”

 

“She does not!” Arthur laughed. “Why do you think that?”

 

“Because she’s followed you around since you brought her home, and you spend all your time with her, and you said you were a cat person, Arthur, so this really isn’t fair.”

 

Arthur grinned. “Oh my god, you’re jealous of the dog.”

 

“Am not.” Eames sniffed and crossed his arms.

 

Arthur put the puppy down and climbed into Eames’ lap. “You are. I guess that means I’m going to have to work extra hard to keep you convinced that I love you the most.”

 

Eames watched the puppy sniff around the couch as Arthur trailed kisses down his neck.

 

“You’re wearing the pants.”

 

“Maybe.” Eames said, tilting his head to give him better access.

 

“I think I was wrong about these. You should take them off immediately.”

 

Eames grinned, pushing Arthur off to shimmy out of his trousers. He didn’t even mind when Arthur had to help peel them off his legs. Arthur laughed and swallowed him down, spending the next fifteen minutes proving he did indeed, love Eames more. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra, sexier drabble that I didn't submit.

Eames is burning. That in itself is nothing new, but of all the ways Arthur's made him feel, jealous is a new experience. He knows he's acting crazy, knows this flare of envy is unfounded, but he can't help himself. Arthur's across the room being delectably competent, and Eames knows the only reason he's standing so close and smiling like that is to get what he wants. What they need.    
  
Eames nearly growls when Arthur's slim fingers brush against skin, trailing lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Eames knows that touch well. Knows it's meant to entice, to provoke the recipient into giving in, into leaning closer and mirroring Arthur's interest.   
  
Arthur laughs when a hand is pressed to his chest. Palm warming the spot where Eames' name is inked into his skin. Not this name, the real one. Because Arthur is careful, and discrete, and he'd never purposefully put those he loves in danger.   
  
Later, when they have what they came for, and Arthur's pushing Eames down into a chair and climbing into his lap, Eames will press himself into all the places Arthur was touched. Erasing foreign sensation and replacing it with his own dark, possessive markings.   
  
When Arthur's writhing over him and panting into his mouth, Eames will remind him of why Arthur chose him. Why Eames is the only one who will ever be able to give Arthur what he seeks.   
  
When Arthur's tracing Eames' marks and teasing him about his jealousy, Eames will confess his greatest fears. He'll whisper his doubts into the dark for Arthur to hear. To catch with his hands and soothe with his kisses. He'll reassure Eames in a way only he could, and Eames will fall asleep content. Secure in a way he never thought he'd deserve.


End file.
